


The One I'm Dying For

by gayreclinetime



Category: Milo Murphy's Law
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Zombies, Fluff and Humor, M/M, maybe violence? i'll update tags and warnings as it goes on, some dark humor i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-02-03 21:01:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12756135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayreclinetime/pseuds/gayreclinetime
Summary: At the moment he was fiddling idly with the wrapper of a milky-way, leaning against his kitchen counter, watching over his newest house guest. He was probably the most polite guest he’d had, if not also the least alive.





	1. Chapter 1

“No, come on- stay with me!” Dakota begged, not that any begging would change anything. At the end of it all, despite everything he had tried, there was nothing he could do. His phone was dead. “Auuugh, stupid piece of junk. Somebody’s not getting an update anytime soon.”

It was late, colder than he thought it would be, and fairly dark considering the fair amount of streetlights that were out. Well, more like totaled. He remembered vaguely there had been some kind of accident down here, but he couldn’t remember the details, really; and it was beside the point. He couldn’t call for that early ride he needed home, which meant he was going to have to get there on foot, all alone for all he knew. In the dark, creepy streets.  
Dakota wasn’t squeamish by any stretch of the imagination, and his house wasn’t that far from the convenience store, but all the same, there was something eerie about it. He shrugged it off to watching too much crime tv lately; he was being stupid. The neighborhood was perfectly safe.  
Though he couldn’t shake the feeling, still, something was off- wrong, somehow. He hadn’t forgotten anything, from what he could tell, extra snacks secure in his pockets. He tried to ignore any shifting figures in the dark, knowing it was his mind playing tricks on him. Until he noticed it wasn’t; there was one long, lean shape, consistently getting closer and further into focus. There was a slight dip to the way it moved, and Dakota realized after a little while there was also a noise: low, almost painful. He replaced his fear for worry, wondering maybe if this stranger was hurt somehow.

“Hey, buddy,” He called, jogging up slightly to get closer. “Are you oh- O-O-H-KAY.”

Now that he was closer, he could see what the real problem was. The guy wasn’t hurt; he was dead. Gray hair matted to his head, his eyes bloodshot, vague, and not only that; he was so pale Dakota could see his veins clearly through his skin. He was caked head to toe in dirt. And he was starting to really pick up the pace on his limp.

“Oh, shhhh,” Dakota kind of carried on as he turned tail and started running the other direction. He ran as fast as he could for as far as he could, but eventually the chicken empanadas he had been downing not too long ago started to catch up on him. He stumbled to a halt, trying to catch his breath. Against his better judgement, he looked over his shoulder.  
The zombie man was actually still a good ways behind him, limping with clear dedication to catch Dakota and crack his head open like a lobster tail. But even with his fastest and most determined lurching, he was still pretty… Slow.  
Dakota rose to his feet, watching the zombie kind of taper along as he got his breathing even again. After reassuring himself about the pace he was at, he simply turned around and started walking again. It would take a little longer to get to his house this way, having to go back around another block. After a few minutes the brilliant idea to phone for a ride instead him him, and after some fumbling, he dug out his phone; off, to his confusion.  
He pressed the button, even holding it a few times, muttering to himself, until on his third attempt he remembered that it had died. Though by the time the realization had hit him it was already too late; he heard that low noise again, right in his ear. Before he could react the zombie lunged on him, mouth clamping onto the back of his head.

“Oh, right!” Dakota yelled, trying to fight the zombie off. He was harder to land a hit on than he’d thought, and he had a much stronger grip than any corpse should have, but in some stroke of luck he was having a hard time actually biting. In fact, all Dakota could feel was a sort of desperate teething and slobbering through his hair. “Ugh, gross,” He tried to wiggle him off. “Seriously, knock it off!”  
He manage to arch a little and send his elbow flying into the zombie’s face, who then let go of both his torso and took his mouth off his head. He noticed now the guy had been wearing glasses, which had gone askew thanks to Dakota’s elbow. Dakota watched in disbelief as the zombie not only went to trying to re-adjust his glasses, but also had the nerve to shoot Dakota a dejected, almost annoyed look.

“Hey, don’t give me that look! You were the one who was trying to eat me!” The last sentence sunk in after a moment, and Dakota immediately went into a beginner’s karate pose. “Try that again and I’ll give you another one, seriously.”

The zombie just huffed dismissively at him and tried to regain his stiff, but imposing stature. Then, with another lingering, annoyed stare, he started shuffling away.

Dakota dropped his fighting stance and was about to head off himself so he could process what’d happened in the comfort of a whole box of thin mints, but then a thought crossed his mind suddenly. “Wait!” He was surprised when the zombie did. Maybe thinking Dakota had reconsidered being eaten and was going to be more cooperative, by the more patient way he held himself. “Are you just gonna go off and eat somebody else?”

The face got in return made it very clear that he was. Dakota couldn’t blame him- not completely, at least. When he thought about it, crawling out of a grave was sure to work up an appetite. And the longer he took the zombie in, the less intimidating he became. Though there was the obvious marks of decay and reanimation, he looked sort of like a librarian, or the host of a tv auction, with the mustache and suit he was sporting.

“You don’t have to do that.” The zombie was shuffling the other way again. “No, really! Why chase down another meal- I can feed ya. Not me, so forget it, but I got some ground beef at my place.” He was starting to mull around now, torn. “Eh, some nice red meat? Sounds good, yeah?”

The zombie looked out ahead, then at Dakota, and back out again in twitchy little motions of the head. Eventually he seemed to agree, jerking his head for Dakota to lead the way. Dakota took a deep breath and headed back in the direction towards home, rotted corpse in tow.

* * *

Dakota had found himself in a lot of surreal situations throughout his life, but this took the cake, as far as he was concerned. At the moment he was fiddling idly with the wrapper of a milky-way, leaning against his kitchen counter, watching over his newest house guest. He was probably the most polite guest he’d had, if not also the least alive. Currently he was crouching on the floor, hovering over a package of raw meat, trying to eat it as delicately as his stiff limbs would allow.  
Eating was doing him good, it seemed, or at least as good as it could do. He seemed strangely more alert, his eyes- or, well, the one that didn’t have a lid locked over it from post-mortem- wandered off less and seemed to focus more as he took in his surroundings. He was even annoyed at the mess he was making, meat residue gluing bits of it onto his face and sleeves.

“I gotcha,” Dakota stepped in with his one dishtowel, rubbing loose bits out of his mustache and chin. To the zombie’s credit, he didn’t bite at his fingers while cleaning up. “You know, you are a very well-mannered zombie. Trying to eat my head aside.”

The zombie, proud of himself, rose out of his crouch as his bones creaked and snapped.

“Gonna have to find out what to do with you,” He wasn’t averse to company at all. But flesh-eating company was a little more complicated- and what’s more, it was getting late. Excitement aside, grogginess was starting to win out. “Tomorrow. How’s that? Unless you’ve got somewhere to be.”

There was an agreeing grunt from the zombie, and it dawned on Dakota that only referring to him as ‘the zombie’ was rude. Despite his so far fairly limited way of communicating, it wouldn’t hurt to give asking a try.

“Hey, can you, uh. Can you talk?”

Another jittery nod, though he seemed begrudging.

“Is there something I can call you? Since you’re gonna be hanging around, I guess.”

There was a beat, then another, in which Dakota realized he looked absent again, and started quivering strangely. It took effort, slow and drawn out, but eventually he managed to produce a coherent enough answer. “Cavendish.”

Dakota couldn’t help but grin; despite the general hoarseness, he could tell there was a kind of poshness to his accent. He offered his hand, which to his delight, was met with a cold, tight grip.

“Vinnie Dakota. Nice to meet ya.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dakota tugged it off and was greeting by an agitated Cavendish looking back at him, in the same stiff crouch Dakota remembered leaving him in. Though he didn’t remember him being so close to the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slight warning for some icky stuff, like throw up and brief mentions of, yknow, what morticians actually do

There were two things Dakota noticed when he woke up. The first was the rattling of his phone as it went off on vibrate. The second was that he’d gone blind.

He managed to get one eye cracked open, though the other was still crusted shut, and blearily flailed his hand around until he managed to pick up his phone. He answered it, vision too still blurry to make out the caller id.

 

“House of rock speaking,” He mumbled.

 

“Oh, so you are alive,” It was Savannah. “So now I’m definitely going to kill you.”

 

“Man, what did I do?” Dakota sat up in his bed, rubbing at his eyes. “I don’t deserve to get woken up to death threats.”

 

“I texted  _ and  _ called you like, twelve times last night,” She said. “Half of those were to make sure you didn’t get killed.”

 

“Oh, yeah. Sorry about that, my phone died, and then after that I- oh, crud!” Dakota pretty much vaulted out of bed. He remembered his guest. “Hey, are you at work right now?”

 

“Yeah? Why?"

 

“Okay, good. I’m gonna meet you down there, I gotta show you something.”

 

“While I’m at  _ work _ ?”

 

“Yes! Just believe me, okay, it’s really important. Gotta go- thanks, Savannah!”

 

Coming out of his room, wrestling a clean shirt on, he found himself all of a sudden flat on the floor. Popping his head through the neck hole and looking over, he noticed the slightly shifting, slightly groaning lump of blanket up against his door. Dakota tugged it off and was greeting by an agitated Cavendish looking back at him, in the same stiff crouch Dakota remembered leaving him in. Though he didn’t remember him being so close to the door.

 

“Did you just sit out here all night?” Cavendish grunted and jerked his head in affirmation. “Oh, well. Thanks for not eating me in my sleep, I guess. That was cool of you.”

 

Dakota got back up, and finished pulling on his shirt all the way. He offered his hand to help Cavendish up, who slowly rose to full height, with some truly disconcerting crackling noises, though it didn’t seem like he was very worried by them. He shuffled behind Dakota as he went looking around for his vest and shades.

 

“Okay, so I figured something out. Kinda. I’m gonna take you to see a friend of mine,” He took a moment to muss his hair appropriately. “She would know about, uh… being dead more than me. Think you can handle a bus ride without taking a bite out of anybody?”

 

Cavendish gave a huff and looked away, like he really had to think about it. Eventually he nodded, though he did look a little unsettled.

 

“Great! Should be a piece of cake, then.”

  
  


* * *

 

The bus ride was actually a piece of cake, relatively speaking. Cavendish kept himself well-behaved, though he was boring a hole into the head of the woman sitting in front of them, and drooled all over himself and Dakota. It was actually when they reached their destination that the problems began to flare up.

For one thing, when Cavendish saw where they’d ended up, he’d let out something between a scream and a whine as he tried to limp away as fast as he could. Dakota had to all but drag him back and insist it was going to be  _ fine _ , and no one was going to try to pack him back into a mahogany box and throw away the key. Eventually he got him in through the doors.

The person there at the front was Brick, dressed for a funeral- as he always was- thumbing absently through some kind of gossip magazine. He didn’t look up as he greeted the two of them.

 

“Welcome to Heaven’s Gate funeral home, what can I do for-” At that point he looked up, and let out a high-pitched scream.

 

Savannah came running out soon after, coat still on. “Brick, what did you- Oh my  _ god _ .”

 

At this point, Brick had gone from crouching behind the desk to pushing Savannah to forefront, crouching behind her. Savannah armed herself with the pen at the front of the desk, for lack of anything else, and kept her eyes locked on Cavendish as Dakota tugged him away from the door again.

 

“Woah, woah, guys,” He said, one hand up. “Relax.”

 

“Dakota, seriously, get  _ away _ from that thing.” Savannah waved her pen for emphasis.

 

“What, you mean Cavendish?” Dakota slipped one arm around him. “C’mon, you guys, he’s totally fine! Just look at him!”

 

Cavendish had been convulsing at his side, and in that moment hit his limit, and hacked up a mouthful of black sludge.

 

“See! Look, you guys are making him nervous,” Dakota said.

 

“ _ We’re _ making  _ it _ nervous?” Brick called from behind Savannah.

 

“ _ Him _ . And yeah, he was totally cool on the bus,” He shook off the sludge that had gotten on his arm. “Ugh, I think this is the hamburger from last night. You guys got any wipes or something?”

 

“Wait a second,” Savannah cut back in. “Is this what you were talking about on the phone? You wanted to show me a freaking  _ zombie _ ?”

 

“Yeah. He’s dead, you work with dead people… Kind of obvious.”

 

“Dakota, you’re going to die, you stupid idiot. And now because of you I’m gonna die too!”

 

“Naw, Cav’s good. He already tried eating me, but we’re cool now. And he didn’t eat anybody on the bus! He’s probably gonna be starving pretty soon, though.” Dakota decided to just rub the mess off on his jeans. “You know, after his stomach settles from puking.”

 

On cue, Cavendish spit up another bout of slime, though much less than the first time.

 

“Gross,” Brick groaned. “We just moped in here.”

 

“Okay, you-” She pointed to Dakota, then to Brick. “And you. Private meeting. Now.”

 

In the back of the home, Savannah took the extra measure of propping a chair up against the door. She was no longer equipt with her pen, but she looked just as prepared to mow down either one of them, should the situation call for it.

 

“I really don’t see why I have to get involved in this-” Brick started.

 

“Shut up,” Savannah said. She singled back in on Dakota. “You. Start explaining.”

 

“Listen, all I know is that I was walking back home, and I saw this guy limping and went to check it out. And then the next thing I know he’s biting down on my skull, except he’s just, like… Weirdly teething at it. So I knocked him off and, you know, we started talking-”

 

“It talked to you?” Brick asked in obvious disbelief.

 

“Well, I mean, he  _ can _ talk, but I did most of the talking. I figured, you know, if he couldn’t dig into me he’d crack somebody else’s skull open. Someone less composed and muscular. So I talked him into coming home and eating some burger meat, and… Listen, he really is just like. Some guy. He would probably get destroyed out there.”

 

“So, why not just let him get destroyed?” Savannah crossed her arms. “Let the problem take care of itself.”

 

“Are you serious? Did you not just see him puke out of anxiety out there? I can’t let him get whacked… again… it’d go against my conscious.”

 

“And what about if he  _ does  _ go and eat somebody?” She asked.

 

“Wait, I actually totally thought about that, it’s why I need your help. You guys take organs out all the time, right? Maybe you could just… You know…”

 

“ _ No. _ ” Brick shuddered.

 

“Absolutely not!” Savannah agreed. “Do you even know how many ethical lines that crosses?”

 

“Oh come on! Some people are donors, right? Or with autopsies or whatever, just… one or two, you know. It doesn’t even have to be the brain, I just think he likes those.”

 

“No! Those are for the hospital, or for labs, not for your pet zombie to eat. Why not keep on feeding him regular meat?”

 

“I don’t know, I don’t wanna make him, like… sick.”

 

“Vinnie, look at me. No.”

 

“Please? Pretty please?”

 

“ _ No _ .”

 

“...What about just the eyeballs?”

 

“We’re done here,” Savannah went to move the chair out of the way.

 

“Aw, come on! Think about how many times I helped you out, even though it was like, definitely illegal, or kinda of morally questionable. Like- what about New Years?”

 

“Give it a rest,” Brick got up, rolling his eyes. “One little prank on New Years isn’t going to-”

 

“Fine.” Savannah said.

 

“What?” Brick reeled back. “Wait, what happened on New Years that-”

 

“Don’t worry about it.” Savannah poked Dakota in the chest. “You don’t tell anybody about this. And if your little zombie friend takes one step out of line, he’s as good as cremated.”

 

“I owe you big time,” Dakota said, dopey grin on his face. “I gotta ask you for one more thing, though. You think you could, uh…” He made a brushing gesture in front of his face. “Spruce him up a little bit?”

 

* * * 

 

When the three of them adjourned their meeting and come back out to the front, Cavendish was gnawing on his hand, with his suit jacket off. He had it sprawled out over the small puddle of runoff from his mouth that’d ended up on the floor, like he’d hoped nobody would notice. Dakota shot him a big smile, walking right up to him and giving him a pat on the shoulder.

 

“Good news, buddy,” He jabbed his thumb back towards Savannah. “My friend Savannah’s got some lunch for you. And she agreed to help you work on your look.”

 

“Gonna have to wash him off,” She mumbled. “His clothes, too. Ugh, do we have anything else we can put him in in the meantime? I do not want to know what a naked zombie looks like.”

 

“I think we have some modesty cloths,” Brick said, lip curling in equal disgust. “We could maybe make him a toga.”

 

She glared at Dakota. “You owe me… til you die.”

 

Cavendish was not crazy about going au naturale for a couple of strangers either. He was clutching at his shirt and crossing his legs, eyes practically bugging out of his head as he looked at Dakota for some way out. Dakota gave his goopy face a pat, trying to reassure him.

 

“They’re just making a big deal out of nothing, Cav, I bet you they’ve seen nakeder. You don’t wanna wear your own mess, and plus I bet they can even stitch up those rips in your suit! Nobody’s gonna do anything weird… weirder than this already is.” He started tugging Cavendish’s ripped-up tie undone. “Do it for the food.”

 

Cavendish plucked the tie from his hands, after a few tries, and started trying to use it to wipe his face in the most dignified manner he could. “Fine,” He managed to groan. “Dolt.”

 

“Wow, he’s got more brains than you.” Savannah was clearly grinning.

 

“He’s just being grumpy, he thinks I’m the coolest guy in the world,” He gave Cavendish a light elbowing. “Right, Cav?”

 

“No.”

 

“See? He totally digs me.”

 

“I’m surprised you even had the time to bring him here,” Savannah said. “I thought you had that rehearsal for that g-”

 

“THE REHEARSAL,” Dakota looked like he’d been electrocuted. “MY GIG!” He started pushing a heavily-protesting Cavendish towards Savannah, “Oh, god, I’m gonna be SO late! I gotta go- I’ll be back later, as soon as it ends!” And then he bolted out the door with a jumbled, “Bye see you later Savannah thanks,” and back towards the bus stop.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Uh… huh. Well, thanks for the save kid,” He offered his hand out. “And to your friends, too. Name’s Vinnie Dakota.”
> 
> “Milo Murphy!” His skinny little hand barely got grasp of Dakota’s. “And that’s Melissa and Zack. We’re the official Catastrophe-Prevention Department for the fair!”

By the time Dakota managed to catch the bus to back his place, scoop up all his equipment, and get back on the bus, he was already pretty behind schedule. He figured there was plenty they could sort out without him, so he didn’t sweat it too much, but when he got off and headed towards the park the Jefferson County Middle School was using to host the little fair they had set up, for… something; there was a pink bundle of fury coming up to met him.

 

“You’re late!” She was calling, grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him towards the crowd of people bustling around. “You’ve put us almost twenty minutes behind schedule!”

 

“Uh… sorry?” He said, for lack of anything else. To be honest he’d never heard of rehearsing a fair, but at the same time he’d never been in one. What did he know.

 

“Ugh. Okay, we can still do a full check if you set up right now,” She pushed him towards the stage they had set up. “Go, go, go, go!” He heard her calling after people in the balloon department, as it were, as she left him to get everything plugged in and checked.

 

“High strung kid,” He mumbled, unpacking his stuff. Thankfully they already had microphones set up, though he had to readjust to accommodate his size. It took him three times to find a working amp to plug his keytar into, though. He pressed down on a few keys, making note of the acoustics, the reverb- no feedback, which was good. Seemed fine, all in all; certainly nothing to warrant a full rehearsal. That’s when he just registered the creaking noises up above.

 

“Uh oh! Lighting fixture!” He looked left in time to see a kid in a sweater vest barreling towards him. And though he couldn’t have been more than ninety pounds soaking wet, some kind of weight on him and the momentum not only knocked Dakota and out of the way, it nearly all but winded him. That’s when the light that’d been directly up above him crashed into the stage and, spitting up sparks, promptly went up in flames. “We got a fire over here!”

 

“On it!” Two other kids, both sporting fire extinguishers, immediately rushed to the scene and doused the stage in foam. All Dakota could do was sit there and watch the events unfold faster than he could react.

 

“Sorry about that,” Sweater Vest Kid was saying. He got up, allowing Dakota to do the same. “You alright?”

 

“Yeah, fine,” Dakota brushed himself off, and made sure none of the keys on his keytar had popped off. “What’re you sorry for, though? You a junior saboteur?”

 

“Hah, no,” He was being surprisingly good-spirited about the whole thing. Dakota could admit he respected that. “It’s just that lighting fixtures and me don’t tend to get along. Or impromptu building structures, or fireworks, or… well, I guess a lot of things!”

 

“Uh… huh. Well, thanks for the save kid,” He offered his hand out. “And to your friends, too. Name’s Vinnie Dakota.”

 

“Milo Murphy!” His skinny little hand barely got grasp of Dakota’s. “And that’s Melissa and Zack. We’re the official Catastrophe-Prevention Department for the fair!”

 

“I can’t believe you talked Amanda into putting Milo on a department,” Zack was saying to Melissa. Melissa just grinned and shrugged.

 

“Give the girl a list of organized pros and cons, and she can’t resist.”

 

“Guys, this is Mr. Vinnie Dakota!” Milo swept his arms towards him.

 

“Just Dakota is fine,” He said. “I’m doin’ music for the fair.”

 

“So… Are you, like, a musician,” Zack was saying. “Professionally, I mean. As a career.”

 

“Oh, you bet!” Dakota couldn’t help but give his regular, ‘schmooze-your-way-to-a-gig’ grin. “It’s a pretty underground scene, but I’ve opened for a few bands. Queasy-Cheese, the Cat Cradlers, Soup In A Can… you know, just a few.”

 

“I’ve never even heard of those bands,” Melissa said.

 

“That’s how you know they’re the coolest.” Dakota gave two cheesy double-pistols.

 

“Wow,” Zack said softly, almost actually astonished.

 

At that point their conversation was cut off by yelling. Part of what looked like a dunk tank was soaring through the air, which in turn smacked into a tent and sent a gaggle of clowns scattering around in panic.

 

“Oops, that’s our cue,” Milo said, readjusting his backpack straps. “Nice to meet you, Dakota! See you around!”

 

* * *

 

Dakota managed to evade the Pink Schedule Girl- Amanda, apparently- and by some miracle caught the bus just before it left. He didn’t mind lugging his keytar, slung around his back, to the funeral home. His main concern was that they currently didn’t have any customers milling about; bright red keytar and fishnets under your jeans wasn’t a good look for to find in a funeral home while you were trying not to cry, he knew from experience.

Thankfully the coast was clear as he scanned the parking area and walked into the front. Brick was there with two tissues stuffed up his nose.

 

“B’oh. Hey,” He said. “You zombie friend hasb been stinking up the blace.”

 

“Don’t be a drama king,” Dakota said as he passed him.

 

Though there was a strong, sharp smell that hit Dakota as he headed towards the back. It didn’t exactly smell like death- or at least, he didn’t think it did, he’d never really taken a good whiff of rotting body. But it did seem more chemical in nature, kind of like bug spray and rubbing alcohol, and a touch of cloyingly lemon-scented cleaner. It made his eyes sting, but he could deal with it.

Cavendish and Savannah were there, and fortunately Cavendish had his suit- clean and patched up as it could be- back on. He was trying to fumble with the collar button, as Savannah tried to just fasten it for him. He kept batting at her hands and grumbling, though not very loud or aggressively, and when he actually looked at her he let his hands drop, sure to be very sour about it still. But that was hardly the less striking thing about the whole scene, about him in general.

 

“Hey, look at you!” He said, unable to keep his wide, excited smile at bay. “You clean up pretty nice!”

 

And he did; He didn’t know how Savannah did it, but Cavendish looked almost completely unmarred from death. He was still pretty pale, and his lips were just the slightest bit blue- and not to mention dry, and his one lid still drooped over his yellow, bloodshot eyes. But his veins didn’t have such a dark, clear contrast, and his cheeks were just a little bit red, as if he might still have blood flowing through them. His mustache and hair had been groomed back into shape, too, and overall he looked like he could be any other living person. Horribly sleep deprived, maybe. But alive.

Cavendish did raise his head a little to bask in such generous praise.

 

“Savannah, you’re a miracle worker.” Dakota was saying, coming up to take a closer look.

 

“I know.” She was packing up her cosmetics. “You wouldn’t even believe. Did you know he was full of bugs? There was a hole nest of them lodged behind his janky eye.”

 

“Oh, what?” Dakota wrinkled his nose at Cavendish. “You had bugs and didn’t tell me? Dude, you were in my house.”

 

“He probably  _ got  _ them from your house.” She shot back. Cavendish huffed in amusement. “Alright, pal, hop down. I gotta have a word in private with Dakota.”

 

Cavendish obliged, hobbling off to the front. It made sense that the limp, like his eyes, couldn’t really be fixed, but it wasn’t necessarily illusion-shattering. Dakota wondered if he could convince him to get a cane.

 

“What’s up?” He put his hands into his pockets and leaned against the examination table. “He didn’t get sick again or anything, did he?”

 

“No, that was fine. Look, something’s… weird about him. And I mean more than just, you know, already being a zombie.”

 

“How do you mean?”

 

“Well, he was definitely embalmed- really well, too- and I found these stitches on his chest. The weird thing is that they don’t look deep enough to have been apart of an autopsy. And of course he’s still got his eyes- if somebody was going to properly bury him, those would’ve been taken out, too. And I think he might’ve been pretty recently buried, his skin and muscles still seem fairly intact...” She was cupping her cheek, lost in thought. “But that suit he has is definitely for a funeral… It just doesn’t make any sense. It’s like somebody tried to make it look like a regular burial, but… I don’t know. Did he say anything to you?”

 

“No. I mean, I didn’t ask.” In the forefront of his mind, that had seemed rude. In the back of it, Cavendish was just… Dead. It didn’t occur to him to think of when, or why, or how. “Why, did he say anything to you?”

 

“I tried asking, but he didn’t want to say anything. Or he couldn’t remember. Probably both.” Savannah shrugged and waved her hand. “Sorry, I don’t know I’m telling you all this. It was just kind of… weird. You might wanna know, just in case it-”

 

“Comes back to bite me?” Dakota, despite the sort of grim tone, just couldn’t resist.

 

“Get out of my funeral home.” Savannah gave him a little shove towards the door.

 

Dakota met Cavendish back at the front of the building, as he made a very obvious point not to look at Brick, or acknowledge he was there. Instead he was looking at a mostly-dead oleander in one of the vases in the corner like it was more interesting than anything in all the world.

 

“Alright, Cav, you ready to head back?” Cavendish perked his head up and nodded, headed for the door even before Dakota was. He took the oleander with him.

 

The bus trip was much easier than back then it was to the home, both with Cavendish’s appetite sated and his less subtle look. They sat in pretty close corners, seeing as the bus was packed now mostly with people coming home from work, and on the ride back Dakota wondered if maybe he should ask Cavendish about how he came to be dead- or, undead. Or maybe just simple things, if he had any family, what he did when he was alive, where he was from. But for some reason that seemed like intruding, maybe even a little mean- it was in a place even far beyond the past, in a realm completely inaccessible, without even the smallest hope of returning to it. It bummed Dakota out to think about. Looking over, he wondered if Cavendish had already thought of it.

But there was no indication. Cavendish just sat quietly and with as much poise as his body would allow, staring at the oleander in his hands. Dakota noticed faintly he still smelled like lemon-scented cleaner.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Aw, don’t be like that. Hey- here, I got an idea to get your mind off of it,” Dakota hopped over the arm of the couch and went to find his keytar again. He sat down on the arm and pressed out a few short bars on the synth setting. “How ‘bout some music?”

Dakota rolled over and again found himself disappointed in not only his alarm clock, but in himself again. It was nearly four in the afternoon, and Dakota was still wrapped in his cocoon of blankets, feeling the heaviness of sleep he didn’t need. He could have just as well gotten out of bed when he’d shot his eyes open wide awake at ten, but it was time to face the facts. He was in a slump.

He didn’t know what it was, nothing had been wrong lately. New company, gig coming up, and he’d remembered to take his meds all week. And yet relapse had hit him, and he’d spent too much time in denial about it to have softened the blow. In retrospect there had been a reason Savannah had been trying to get him out of the house all week. Cavendish had almost seemed to be hovering lately, too.

Cavendish- that was right, what had he been thinking? Guilt begun to set in; his one connection to the outside world, for the most part, and Dakota had been moping around in his room for the last few days. He had to be bored, hungry- worst yet, what if he thought it was his fault? Dakota wasn’t about to let the guilt glue him to his bed for the rest of the day. He had to summon up the will to get up and throw a shirt out, and let the momentum carry him into cleaning himself up somewhat and out into the main room of his house. Cavendish was laying on the floor, next to the couch, staring up at the ceiling. Not that it was a competition, but his ennui definitely beat out Dakota’s by a longshot.

 

“Hey, buddy,” Cavendish slowly moved his head around to look at Dakota. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been acting lousy lately, but- I’ll make it up to you! Somehow.” He flopped down on the couch above him. “You ever have a bucket list?”

 

Cavendish gave it some thought, but shook his head no all the same.

 

“Okay… Anywhere you wanna go?” Another no from Cavendish. “You hungry? I don’t know if the funeral house is open today but, you know, I can run and get some more burger meat. Maybe some chopped sirloin.” Surprisingly, Cavendish shook his head again, grunting. “...You feelin’ out of it too today?” It occurred to Dakota there must’ve been nothing more than dying, just to come back only half way.

 

Cavendish nodded his head, and folded his hands over his chest. A lot of the makeup Savannah had put on him had rubbed off by now, leaving some sort of strange halfway illusion. A vein would reach across his face only to disappear jarringly. Only one cheek still looked like it had any sort of liveliness to it.

 

Dakota sat up, patted the space on the couch next to him. “C’mon. No need to mope alone.” He helped Cavendish get up on the couch, seeing as sprawling on the floor had left him stiffer than usual. “Bet I can guess what’s got you down in the dumps, huh?” That was the extent of what he could think to say. He couldn’t say it wasn’t that bad, because what did he know about it, aside from what he could only tell from the surface? Clearly Cavendish had been thinking about it more than Dakota knew.

 

Cavendish simply gave him an almost irritated glance, and tried to make a show of him turning to face away from Dakota.

 

“Aw, don’t be like that. Hey- here, I got an idea to get your mind off of it,” Dakota hopped over the arm of the couch and went to find his keytar again. He sat down on the arm and pressed out a few short bars on the synth setting. “How ‘bout some music?”

 

Cavendish did look over, and even more to Dakota’s relief he looked interested. Dakota the opening beat from  _ Sweet Dreams _ .

 

“Not bad, right? Look, it’s got other settings, too, look at this-” Dakota switched over to the regular keyboard setting. He did a very messy rendition of  _ Hot Cross Buns _ .

 

Cavendish took definite interest in that. He scooted closer to Dakota and pressed a button; and to Dakota’s absolute surprise, he smiled. He lifted up both his hands and gestured for Dakota to come closer.

 

“Oh, yeah,” Dakota slipped it off and held it steady in his lap for him. “Knock yourself out.”

 

Cavendish took a moment to play a halting scale, though the frustration at his lack in dexterity showed, he didn’t let that stop him. He stubbornly pressed down on key after key, clumsily and jerkily at first, but the more he repeated the same motion the smoother each other became, until it was a full song. Not one Dakota recognized. But it was pretty, all the same.

 

“Hey, that’s good!” Dakota couldn’t help but beam, strangely excited. “How’d you learn to play like that?”

 

Cavendish idly repeated pressing the same two keys. “I am a pianist,” He managed. He put his hand down. “Was. Was a pianist.”

 

“Well, hey, you’ve definitely still got it,” He propped the keytar up against the couch. “You and I should do a duet sometime. Know anything a little more funky?”

 

Cavendish rolled his eyes- or at least, the only eye he could- but Dakota noticed he didn’t exactly give a “no”.

 

* * *

 

Staying in was turning out to not be a bad idea, though Dakota did propose a walk, Cavendish made it clear that he would be mortified to go out in his condition, looking not quite alive and not quite undead. He and Cavendish spent a good portion of the afternoon playing around with his keytar, though eventually he just let Cavendish have it all together and got out his beaten up acoustic guitar. Dakota shared some of his newer pieces and tried to pitch some ideas for a concept album, though Cavendish found it largely unamusing. Cavendish- through the blessing of the internet- showed Dakota some of his favorite pieces and musical talents, largely all dead frilly dudes Dakota hardly recognized. But either way, it was good. Cavendish seemed almost like he was having fun.

As it got later, their stamina started to fade, and Dakota packed away the instruments. He put on a movie for Cavendish as he made himself dinner, which ended up being a fairly bruised banana and some shredded cheese straight out of the bag. He’s sure somehow Cavendish would have hounded him for his meal choice, but thankfully he seemed too invested in the movie. Some kind of mystery film, as Dakota recalled- he hadn’t really been paying attention when he switched it on, considering he could have sworn it was in color before he went into the kitchen.

 

“What’d I miss?” He immediately got a jerky, wild hand smacked up against his mouth for that. Cavendish was staring intently at the film, two detectives trying to sort out some kind of motive for the movie’s criminal.

 

The scene faded out to the two approaching the door of the house, answered by some dolled up woman in a robe. She was the last one seen with him, they were saying. They were asking her about relationships, friends, family. She told them coolly he had none; no family, no friends. Just him alone in the world. Cavendish threw the remote at the television.

 

“Whoa, hey,” Dakota grabbed his arm. “Calm down, buddy, it’s just a movie.”

 

Cavendish thrashed out of his his hold, convulsing again. There was a look in his eye that was unusual, more vague, closer to how he looked when Dakota had seen him that first time. Dakota’s heart sank as he realized it was more than just a movie.

 

“I’m sure that’s not true,” He was trying to say, put a hand on his shoulder, but Cavendish shook him off again. Dakota refused to be discouraged, trying to steady out his shaking. “Cavendish, hey, it’s alright. Look at me, Cav, it’s okay. You’re not alone.”

 

Cavendish reluctantly allowed himself to get manhandled into something awkward, resembling a hug, waiting the shakes out. He gripped Dakota’s tightly, fingers digging into his bare arms. “No one,” He was saying, hoarsely, almost incomprehensible at first. “No one looked.”

 

Nothing could have prepared Dakota to hear that. “I’m sorry, buddy. I’m sorry, Cav.” He tried to rub his back. “You’re not alone anymore, I promise. I’m right here.” Cavendish steadied a little bit, but he kept holding on tight. “That’s right. You’re not gettin’ rid of me anytime soon.”

 

They stayed like that for a while, Cavendish locked, almost frozen tight against Dakota, and Dakota patting him on the back as he calmed down. Cavendish of course was embarrassed when the ordeal was over, having made such a scene over a simple throwaway line from a movie. He took it on himself to fetch the remote and fumble to put the batteries back in, dropping it sheepishly into Dakota’s lap.

 

“How about something else, huh? That movie sucked anyways.” He was more careful to pick something actually and absolutely mind-numbing. Both of them were clearly emotionally exhausted; Cavendish even seemed to fall against Dakota when he sat back down. Cold and clammy as he was, Dakota didn’t say anything. He didn’t mind.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Warm,” He mumbled, kind of dreamily. He dug his face into Dakota’s chest more, closer to his heart. It was almost cute, until suddenly he noticed Cavendish was almost definitely sniffing him.
> 
> “Yep, okay,” He used all his force to sit up. “We are getting you something to eat right now.”

Dakota was unsure when he’d fallen asleep- or that he even had- but when he was awake Cavendish was clinging onto him almost with his whole body. He wasn’t squeezing very tight, but the post-mortem stiffness made his whole grip kind of firm. He had his head against his chest, just a few inches away from his heart. He was not asleep either, but he did look kind of drowsy.

Dakota felt kind of bad to disturb him, but he did have to pee. He tried to get up, only to have Cavendish lock tighter around him.

 

“Warm,” He mumbled, kind of dreamily. He dug his face into Dakota’s chest more, closer to his heart. It was almost cute, until suddenly he noticed Cavendish was almost definitely sniffing him.

 

“Yep, okay,” He used all his force to sit up. “We are getting you something to eat right now.”

 

Cavendish was still pretty adverse to the idea of going out, only half made-up, but Dakota made a mess of his hair and put his shirt on inside-out to make him feel better about it. He was aware it was silly, and Cavendish was  _ definitely  _ aware that it was silly, but it did still manage to work. He got him all the way back to the funeral home without wringing his hands or preening every two seconds.

Unfortunately Heaven’s Gate had customers today. There was a middle-aged woman on the couch, puffy and red in the face, covered in her own snot. A short, pudgy lady in a ponytail was sitting next to her, handing her tissues and trying to console her.

 

“Can I get you something?” Ponytail put the box of tissues down. “Tea, coffee? Hot chocolate? I mean it’s not very good, but-” She spotted Cavendish and Dakota. “Oh! Sorry, give me a minute,” She stood up and patted down her suit. “Can I help you two?”

 

“Yeah, uh, we’re just here to see Savannah,” Dakota said. “She in?”

 

“Oh, she’s here! But she’s kind of, um,” Ponytail’s eyes wandered to the grieving woman. “With someone right now.”

 

“Totally get it, sorry to barge in,” He started pulling Cavendish back towards the door. “We’ll just be back later, thanks.”

 

Once out of the door and sure that the two inside were talking to each other again, Dakota headed around to the back. He tried to jiggle the fire exit open.

 

Cavendish, mortified, tried smacking his hands away. “No!”

 

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Dakota was trying to smack his hands back. “You heard the lady at the front, new arrival. You wanna eat or not?”

 

Cavendish clearly looked torn between stuffing his face and having the decency not to intrude on preparing a body for burial. Dakota slipped in while he was still deciding, trying to find the room Savannah was in. Cavendish let out an outraged wheeze and stumbled after him.

It was almost a mad dash, if not for Dakota’s attempts at stealth and Cavendish’s pitiful run, as Dakota tried to find the room Savannah might be in. He almost trapped himself in a broom closet and what looked like a broiler room; after the second slip up Cavendish latched onto him by the waist. From then it was something of a wrestling match as Cavendish tried to pull him back and Dakota tried to shake him and move ahead. They both tumbled through a door, on the other end was another dead gentleman and Savannah.

 

“ _ What  _ are you two doing?!” She was in the middle of scooping out an eyeball. “I’m in the middle of work!”

 

“You don’t lock this door?” Savannah gave Dakota a look like she was ready to literally kick him back out the door. Cavendish gave him an uncoordinated whap for her. “Hey!”

 

“You blow me off for days,” She smacked her tools down on the table. “You barge in without a  _ word _ , in the middle of prep- you better have a good reason, or you’re next on this table.”

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, chill,” Dakota crawled out from under Cavendish and stood up. “I just came to pick up lunch for Cav, then I’m out of your hair.”

 

Savannah pointed a scalpel at him, but eventually just rolled her eyes and went to look through a clipboard. “You can have a kidney.”

 

“Sweet, where is it?”

 

“I have to take it out first, idiot. Go sit in the corner and shut up.”

 

Cavendish was already in the corner, patiently and politely sitting down and shutting up. Dakota flopped down next to him, though he got squeamish very quickly trying to watch Savannah get back to work. He turned his boredom on Cavendish.

 

“Hey, Cav,” He whispered. “How do you feel about goin’ out some time.”

 

Cavendish looked like he didn’t feel very great about going out some time.

 

“No, it’ll be fun, I promise- it’s a fair. Who doesn’t like the fair?”

 

Cavendish mumbled and nodded a little bit. He had him there.

 

“See, and I’ll be there the whole time- I even know some people on staff to get you the v.i.p. Treatment. How about it?”

 

Cavendish tried to appear uninterested, but he gave a very committed nod.

 

“Great! It’s a date!” Dakota turned to Savannah. “Hey, Savannah! You wanna go to the fair?”

 

“No.”

 

“Alright, cool!”

 

Savannah came over a moment, dropping a lump of flesh in Cavendish’s lap. “Here’s your kidney.”

 

Cavendish groaned in protest at the mess it made all over his clothes, but held his tongue when Savannah looked back at him. He simply picked up his meal and began gnawing on it quietly.

 

“Oof, ugh. Yeah, that’s disgusting,” Dakota got up, hand over his mouth. “I’m gonna head outside. Text you later, Savannah, sorry again for the barge-in.”

 

“Not so fast,” She said, pulling a blanket over the customer. “I need to talk to you about something.”

 

“Uh oh. Am I in more trouble?” Dakota edged around the table. It felt weird to see a corpse that wasn’t moving for a change, somehow.

 

“You remember what I told you last time, about…” She tried to gesture subtly to Cavendish. “Well, I decided to do some looking around. I don’t wanna be the one to tell you this, but… he was definitely murdered. I found a missing person’s report for him, and, well… The case is…” She bit her lip. Dakota felt his heart sink again.

 

“You got a full name?” For some reason it was important he know.

 

“Yeah. Balthazar Cavendish.”

 

Cavendish looked up for a moment, kidney dribbling a little bit from out of his mouth.

 

“Nothin’, buddy,” He called back. “Savannah just told me she found you in the yellow pages, that’s all.” Cavendish didn’t seem all the way convinced, but he dropped it and went back to eating. Dakota turned back to Savannah. “Thanks, Savannah. I really mean it.”

 

“Sure, you’re welcome. Sorry about, uh… Well, you know.”

 

They stuck around a while longer, to have Cavendish cleaned and touched up again, then they snuck out the back again. Dakota didn’t tell Cavendish about the closed case on him, after the previous night he didn’t want him to get worked up again so soon; but he still felt bad about it. There was nothing he, or anyone could do, as far as he knew; Cavendish was dead. Cavendish was brought back. And he was what he was now- there wasn’t any way to undo that.

But to think that way made him feel like a quitter; There had to be something, anything he could’ve done, even if he couldn’t fix everything. And suddenly Dakota knew, with great determination, what he was going to do; If the case was closed, he was going to open it back up.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t be like that,” Dakota told him, walking towards the fair grounds. “It’s supposed to be fun, remember? I know you’re dead but try to live a little.”

When fair day rolled around, Dakota was wired, just like every day he had a gig. It was a surprise he managed to get any sleep at all, or in that same vein, managed to stay on his feet. It was some strange combination of coffee and excitement, unable to wait until the moment he stepped onstage. But it was still a good amount of time before the fair even started. He had to focus on getting ready first.

Luckily for him, he had a helping hand for once.

 

“What do you think for pants, animal print? No? Yes?” Cavendish was a strong no on animal print. “Okay, so definitely animal print. Cheetah or zebra, just point.” Sighing, Cavendish gestured to the pair of ripped-up zebra print pants Dakota was holding up. “...Yeah, you’re actually right about that one. Cheetah’s too much for the fair.”

 

They went back and forth like that. Dakota went with his leather vest instead of his denim one, and Cavendish insisted he leave it zipped up and belted, which Dakota had to hand it to him; when he was right, he was right. He wasn’t a fan of the gloves, though, but if Dakota was being honest it was less of a stylistic choice than a way to make sure his fingers didn’t slip on the keys when he got sweaty. A pair of big black boots and some thick eyeliner later, and he felt ready.

 

He ran his fingers through his hair one last time. “Whoo, look out everybody,” He gave his own reflection a cheesy grin. “Can’t set this body to ‘stun’.” He heard Cavendish groan behind him. “Aw, you’re just jealous you don’t get to dress up.”

 

Looking back, he could see Cavendish shifting almost side to side, in that way Dakota had come to identify with Cavendish not wanting to admit he was right.

 

“Oh. Well, I don’t think I have anything your size. Or your style. Maybe I can find something, hold on.” He went back into his closet and began to dig.

 

A lot of his clothes were red, or orange, or other loud colors or patterns, hand-ripped denim or thrift shirts, and most much too big for Cavendish. Something caught his eye at the top of the closet, in the back. When he managed to shake it down he noticed it was a sleek top hat. Probably an impulse buy; he couldn’t remember wearing, and definitely couldn’t remember any context he might’ve bought it for.

 

“Alright, try this-” He blew off the dust, and, getting on his tiptoes, plopped the hat on top of Cavendish’s head.

 

Cavendish took a moment to try to really settle it on his head. He shuffled closer to Dakota’s mirror and looked at himself a long time. Then, to Dakota’s surprise, he smiled.

 

“You like it?” Dakota hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath.

 

“I like it.” Cavendish repeated.

 

“Good! Good y’know, it really kinda suits you,” He spent maybe a moment longer than he should have smiling dumbly at Cavendish. Under any other circumstance with any other person, he would laugh, but as poised and proper as Cavendish tried to look even while ragged and dead, it really did look like it belonged up there on his head. “C’mon, let’s go get everything moved into the living room. I wanna be able to move it easier while Savannah makes you up.”

 

* * *

 

Savannah came over not too long after, with her bag of cosmetics. She sat Cavendish down and got to work, making him look as lively as he could, evening out the weird, bushy tilt of his mustache, combing his hair back under his hat (which she had laughed at. Cavendish had seemed pretty indignant about it, but he seemed stubbornly committed to wearing the hat still). Meanwhile Dakota loaded up her trunk with everything he needed, recounted his cash, double checked he had his wallet at least three times, and then recounted his cash again.

 

“Hey, lookin’ good buddy,” Dakota gave Cavendish a light, playful couple of punches in the arm. “If we see any ghosts out tonight they better watch out, huh?”

 

“Ghosts aren’t real,” Both Cavendish and Savannah said at the same time. Well, almost. Cavendish took longer to get it all the way out.

 

“You’re a zombie, you’re standing  _ next  _ to a zombie, and ghosts aren’t real? What sense does that make? Like, dead people can come back on just one way, or- what gives?”

 

“Cavendish,” Savannah ignored him. “How would you like to sit in the front?”

 

Cavendish nodded like he would be grateful to sit in the front.

 

“Awh, what,” Dakota trailed them to the car. “But I called shotgun times infinity, remember?”

 

“I can’t remember everytime you say something a twelve-year-old would say, Dakota.” She climbed in. “Get in the car.”

 

Cavendish had a hard time with the drive, because neither Savannah nor Dakota could resist absolutely belting out along with songs on the radio. As such he was not allowed to touch the dial, and got his hand shoved firmly away when he not-so-subtly tried. As such he was very huffy when he got out of the car with Dakota, to the point where he pointedly made Dakota carry all his stuff.

 

“Don’t be like that,” Dakota told him, walking towards the fair grounds. “It’s supposed to be fun, remember? I know you’re dead but try to live a little.”

 

Cavendish simply scoffed.

 

“I’ll get you to have fun by the time we leave, just you watch.”

 

Once they were well past the entrance, Dakota noticed three kids barreling towards him.

 

“Mr. Dakota!” Milo was calling, waving wildly. “Oops, I mean, Dakota! Good to see you!”

 

“Hey, the Catastrophe Kids!” Dakota was beaming. “Boy am I glad it’s you guys, and not that other girl.”

 

“Oh, you’ll see Amanda by the stage later,” Milo said. “Nice pants! Who’s your friend?”

 

“Thanks. Oh, and this is my buddy, Cavendish.” Dakota gestured between him and the kids. “Cavendish, this is Milo, Melissa, and Zack.”

 

There was a ‘hello’, ‘sup’, and ‘hi’ in that same order. Cavendish tipped his hat politely and said his own rough greeting, very quietly. Though he seemed to be keeping it together Dakota could feel his hands shaking at his side. Without saying a word, he calmly took Cavendish’s hand. He gripped back tight.

 

“Are you wearing makeup?” Zack asked, attention turned back to Dakota.

 

“Yeah.” Dakota said simply. He knew it was obvious.

 

“Isn’t it kind of… You know, uh-”

 

“Cool? You bet.” Dakota gestured at his face with one hand. “Gotta complete the look, man.”

 

“How do you get it so even?” Melissa asked, squinting.

 

“Sorry, trade secret.”

 

It was all going good- even Cavendish seemed to be calming down, at least enough to stop shaking- when the stripe-vested destroyer of fun emerged from out of nowhere and in the middle of the conversation.

 

“Alright, everybody, what seems to be going on here,” Elliot was saying. “Blocking the entrance? That’s a fire hazard.”

 

“What are you doing here, Decker?” Dakota’s good-natured demeanor soured immediately. “This isn’t a crosswalk.”

 

Elliot Decker was the whole package: insufferable, sanctimonious, and downright annoying. Only nineteen and seemingly deadlocked into the crossing guard career, though something drove him to make it out like he was the only thing holding the town together, and everyone should be thanking him for being a buzzkill. Usually Dakota didn’t let the stuff usual, annoying teenagers do get to him, but his gut gave him a bad feeling about the guy. And his gut was rarely wrong.

 

“I’m here as apart of volunteer security,” He said. “And a good thing too. I see  _ Milo _ decided to come.”

 

“Hi, Elliot!” Milo either didn’t notice Elliot’s obvious scorn, or didn’t let it get to him. “Glad you decided to come!”

 

“He’s on one of the departments, Decker. Doesn’t that make him, like, outrank you?” Dakota had a feeling saying  _ ‘plus, he’s only a kid’  _ wasn’t gonna sway him. There was some kind of history here he must’ve been missing. “Come to think of it, without any of the departments there wouldn’t even be a fair, right? Including him. So really you should be thanking him for his work.”

 

“Yeah!” Zack chimed in. “You should thank him, Elliot!”

 

“Don’t be rude, Elliot,” Melissa agreed.

 

“What? That’s ridiculous, if he wasn’t here, we-”

 

Dakota took a step forward, between Elliot and Milo. “Thank the kid, Decker.”

 

Elliot, as Dakota expected, tried to shrink out of his way. “Uh… thank you, Milo…” He sounded like every word was killing him.

 

“Oh, gosh. Well, you’re welcome!” Milo chipped in.

 

Elliot only grumbled as he slinked off, sighting some safety violation… somewhere. Where they weren’t.

 

“Sheesh. Does he always talk to you like that?” Dakota looked back to Milo.

 

“No. Sometimes he’s all the way across the street,” Milo just shrugged.

 

That didn’t sit right with Dakota at all, but before he could say anything, he saw a blur headed toward him. His evasion of schedule was clearly not meant to last, if Amanda trying to drag him by the stage was any indication.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!” He was trying to tell her. Cavendish was still holding his hand. “Sorry, Cav- I’ll see you after I play! Just stick with the kids, alright, it’ll be- ow! I said I’m coming!” Cavendish reluctantly released his hand. “Oh and uh, if that Decker creep comes back, just. I don’t know, hiss at him or something.”

 

* * *

 

After a series of unexplained, destructive phenomenon that blew just through the stage area- to say nothing of the rest of the fair- it was finally time for Dakota to go onstage. He was lucky as always he had his shades against the flood-lights. He saw Cavendish in the crowd.

 

He was ready to rock.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, no description of dakota actually rocking out in next chapter because every writer has their limits and weaknesses. and writing out a whole musical scene is mine


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He realized he was still snug up against Cavendish, and stood back up. “He slip away from you guys?”
> 
> “Not really.” Melissa shrugged. “He started dragging all three of us over here when he heard you playing”

Dakota held out the final note, hunched over his keytar, though a little dramatically. The crowd below gave their cheers and applause as Dakota gave his final gesture off the stage. He was completely drenched with sweat, and thirsty to boot, so when he dug a water bottle out of the tub of them backstage he guzzled down half like it was nothing and dumped the rest over his head.

The next step was to duck out and find Cavendish and the kids before anybody cut him off. He hadn’t really been able to tell if they were in the crowd while he was up on stage, but it wasn’t a bad first place to look. There were already a lot of people moving along to the next band, though, so ducking and weaving turned into being pushed and bounced along more than anything. He almost fell down, though the furthest he got was face-first into the chest of somebody else.

 

“Oh, sorry-” Dakota looked up to see Cavendish’s face looking back down at him. To his surprise, he had a bit of cotton candy stuck in his mustache. “Did you get that without m- hey, wait! Are you even supposed to eat that?”

 

Cavendish scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Live a little.”

 

“Oh, see! There he is- oh, there they both are, actually,” He heard Milo calling, Melissa and Zack trailing after him like ducks in a row. “Sorry, there was an accident at the popcorn machine- hey, why are you all wet?”

 

“Gets hot back there, that’s all.” He realized he was still snug up against Cavendish, and stood back up. “He slip away from you guys?”

 

“Not really.” Melissa shrugged. “He started dragging all three of us over here when he heard you playing”

 

“Oh, really?” He grinned up at Cavendish, who was very meticulously adjusting his hat. “Hey, what’d you guys think?”

 

“It was great!” Zack nearly bounced up on his tiptoes. “I mean, uh. It was different, but pretty good! I thought,” He cleared his throat a little. “Did you write all of those yourself?”

 

“Oh, yeah, for sure! Although to be honest you know, it’s easier in the minor key, so I-”

 

“Aha! That’s what I thought it was, see?” He pointed to Melissa. “I told you it was mostly minor key!”

 

“Seems kind of spooky for such a laid back guy,” She said.

 

“I can be spooky.” Dakota made a big show out of hunching his shoulders and wiggling his fingers at her.

 

“Pretty good,” Milo was saying. “But I think Mr. Cavendish does it slightly better.”

 

Cavendish subtly beamed with pride, both at the supposed compliment and at being addressed as ‘Mr’.

 

“Well, you got me there,” Dakota said, patting Cavendish on the back. “He’s a pro when it comes to that sort of thing.”

 

“Are you an actor?” Milo asked Cavendish. “Cause if you are you’re  _ really  _ good at it!”

 

Cavendish looked at him for a while, and then slowly over to Dakota. Dakota tried not to look constipated and instead encouraging, giving him a thumbs up to tell the truth. “No,” He said slowly. That was it.

 

“He’s a musician too,” Dakota cut in.

 

“Oh, so you guys must work together,” Melissa said.

 

“Yeah, sure. Hey, what’re we doing standing around here, anyway?” Dakota tried to change the subject. “There’s a fair going on, c’mon, let’s go have some fun.”

 

It was agreed that they should go play a round of fair games, which Melissa in particular was unfairly good at. Milo gave it his best shot, though for whatever reason, he couldn’t get a lucky break, and in fact in one go broke a funhouse mirror while trying to hook a magnetic fish onto the rod. Zack one him a very small, dumpy stuffed turtle to make for it. Cavendish did not participate for obvious lack of fine motor control, but Dakota did buy them corn dogs to share, against his own better judgement. The kids were buzzing around them, in between booths, asking all sorts of questions and begging Dakota for rockstar stories- the grosser, the better. Dakota liked having sort of a little fan club hanging around, and more than that he liked that Cavendish didn’t seem to be so nervous around them, either. It seemed like he was having just as much fun with everybody else, even if he didn’t say quite as much.

Eventually they made their way up to a dinky little bottle stand, and it seemed like the kids new the other sweaty middle schooler running it.

 

“Chad, what are you doing,” Melissa was the first to say anything.

 

“Well, Mort got to work at one of the booths! I wanted to do it, too,” Chad held both of his hands up defensively. “Besides, this way I can make sure this one’s not rigged! That way everybody’s got a fair shot.”

 

“Not a bad idea,” Dakota agreed. “Hey, Milo, why don’t you go first?”

 

“Oh, I dunno…” Milo started. “I think fourteen more years of bad luck in one night might be pushing it.”

 

“Aw, that was just a bad break,” Dakota waved his hand dismissively. “C’mon kid, you can’t lose ‘em all, right? I mean the worst you can do is miss.”

 

“Well… Okay! Set me up, Chad!”

 

Chad gave Milo three balls, and then immediately dropped to the floor of the booth and took cover. Melissa and Zack followed suit, and even Cavendish took a wobbling step back. Dakota noticed a lot of that had been going on throughout the night, though he chalked it up to dramatics. He gave Milo’s shoulder a squeeze. “You got this, kid.”

 

The first ball went too far to the left and simply hit the back of the booth. The second one got a little closer, just barely nudging one of the bottles, though it didn’t fall out of place. The third one is what set off the chain reaction of catastrophe.

 

First, of course, the ball bounced off the base the bottles were stacked on and vaulted out of the booth- both Dakota and Milo having to jump out of the way to avoid being hit. Then it hit the target of the dunk tank (sending some middle school teacher into the water), and doubled back towards the row of food booths. It got stuck in a broiler of some kind, and whistling as it reached the limit, the ball came back- twice as fast, scalding- in Cavendish’s direction. He could not move fast enough to get out of the way as the ball, rocketeering, made contact with where his arm met his shoulder and promptly separated them from each other. Cavendish’s arm hit the floor with a dull thud.

 

Cavendish looked, for a moment almost calm, until it dawned on him what’d happened. Then his eyes widened, and though he didn’t scream, he let out a long, panicked wheeze in the back of his throat.

 

“Oh, ffffuuhhh,” Dakota had to bite his lip, both to keep from swearing in front of the kids and from being sick. There wasn’t any blood to speak of, and Dakota thought he was getting used to the whole zombie thing, but seeing Cavendish’s whole arm fly off was a little uncomfortable to see, to say in the least.

 

“Oh my gosh, Mr. Cavendish, I’m- I-I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry-” Milo had been taking most of the disasters of the night in stride himself, but he, too, couldn’t have been used to dismemberment.

 

“What on Earth is going on here-  _ AUGH _ ,” To make matters worse, Elliot showed up to investigate. He immediately slapped his hand over his mouth and wheeled back when he saw the minimal carnage, face quickly going pale.

 

This was getting far too public. Dakota had to keep his head on his shoulders, there was time for being grossed out and panicking later. “Woah, okay, everybody relax,” He leaned over and, yes, willed himself to pick up Cavendish’s dismembered arm. “It’s just a prosthetic, here, watch.” He slipped his hand up Cavendish’s empty sleeve and was both appalled and relieved to find a bit of bone jutting out. He tried his best to stick Cavendish’s arm back onto it, and thankfully, Cavendish seemed to catch on. When it started slipping he grabbed it, holding it in place. “See? Fine.”

 

“Oh! Hah, well that’s a relief,” Relief was an understatement, going by the look on Milo’s face. “It would’ve been awful if I had… Well, are you sure you’re alright, anyway.”

 

Cavendish gave a crooked little smile and nodded. “Thank you.”

 

“And it’s not your fault, kid,” Dakota added. “Accidents happen. No harm done.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“‘Course. Don’t sweat it.”

 

“Then  _ I’ll  _ be sweating it,” Elliot cut in, mostly over his previous sickness. He turned to Chad. “Young man, is this your carnival game? Because I’m going to have to make sure the density of those balls are well within standards.”

 

“Dude, really?” Dakota gestured over to where the broiler had come off. “The booth’s not the problem! The broiler’s what caused the accident- anything that can shoot a ball far and hard enough to take off a prosthetic is just crazy unsafe.”

 

“Right- of course, the broiler. Is what I meant. Obviously.” He still shot Chad the ‘I’m watching you’ gesture as he went off to hassle the food booth.

 

“I should really egg that guy,” Dakota felt a buzzing in his vest pocket. “Ah, that’s probably our ride. Sorry kids, we better split.”

 

There was a chorus of “aawww”s that followed. Dakota made sure the give each of them a good hair-ruffling.

 

“Can we come to your next gig?” Zack asked as they walked the two of them out.

 

“Uh, if it’s kid friendly, sure. I’ll give you guys V.I.P. access.”

 

“What about you, Mr. Cavendish?” Milo was very precautiously holding Cavendish’s hand, the one that had been on the ground earlier. It helped him limp less. “Are you playing anywhere soon?”

 

Cavendish shook his head.

 

“It’s a slowly season for pianists,” Dakota explained.

 

“Why would you need a special season for pianists?” Melissa asked. “That doesn’t make sense.”

 

“You got me. I’m just a lowly rockstar, right Cav?” He bumped Cavendish a little, and to his surprise he got a small bump back.

 

“Pianist… Huh,” Zack looked like he was trying to remember something, squinting up at Cavendish. “I feel like I should’ve guessed that. You  _ do  _ look like a pianist.”

 

Their conversation got cut off by a honk of a horn. Savannah had pulled up a few feet away and was waiting for them.

 

* * *

 

Both of them had piled into the backseat, just to make it easier to say goodbye to the kids as they all waved off. Savannah noticed immediately.

 

“What’s with the toddlers?” She glanced over her shoulder at Dakota. “Was this a babysitting gig?”

 

“Their middle schoolers, Savannah, come on. And they’re good kids! You know, they put out like, what, three fires tonight before they really even started. Right, Cav?”

 

Cavendish mumbled in agreement.

 

“Wait, why were there fires at the fair?”

 

“Why are there fires anywhere? Oh, hey, that reminds me- let me have it, buddy,” Cavendish let go of his arm, which slipped off and out of his sleeve again. He set it in Dakota’s lap. “Augh, no offense, Cavendish, but that reeks.”

 

“What are you talking abou- oh my god!” Savannah adjusted her mirror to double check what she was seeing was real. “Is that his arm? What happened there?!”

 

“Just an accident. How you feelin’, by the way? Doesn’t… hurt too bad, does it?”

 

Cavendish lightly prodded at the lump of his shoulder, mustache twitching as he made a slight face. “Like… a bruise.”

 

“Oh, okay.That’s not so bad.” Dakota was relieved that, if nothing else, he wasn’t in any real pain. “Hey, Savannah? When we get home, you think you can help put his arm back on?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Considering, well… He hadn’t clued Cavendish in on the unofficial investigation yet. He did feel guilty about it, almost going behind Cavendish’s back, looking things up about him- it was secretive, and made him feel sort of creepy, but the poor guy seemed like he had to think to remember his own name. Why press him for information he wasn’t likely to have, that would more or less set him off on a downward spiral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, i'm still writing this fic, amazingly ! sorry it took so long to update, but i can officially say the unofficial hiatus is over, and we're back with zombies

Cavendish made a full recovery from the fair, his arm was was an easy patch for Savannah, and though the corn dog and cotton candy made him sick, as Dakota unfortunately suspected, he managed to deal with it in the bathroom like a normal person. And his spirits seemed higher, as much as they could be, as a sulking member of the undead; in just a few days he was ready to go out again, bugging Dakota to get out of his house, let alone his room.

Today, Dakota was happy to relent, because he had the perfect place in mind: the public library. He’d been devoting a lot of time since the fair trying to research what he could on the internet, anything surrounding Cavendish’s case, or his person in general, but there was surprisingly very little. Dakota wasn’t very surprised to find out he didn’t really have much in the way of social media, but it was very disappointing to find very little online articles about his career, and even less about his family or his disappearance. He did, however, find a few videos on him playing one or two venues. He might’ve listened to them on repeat more than he would have liked to admit to, but what could he say? The guy was really good.

 

Point being, somehow, in the age of information, the internet had failed him. He was going to have to hit the books- or the newspapers, whatever they had. And Cavendish, being the nerd he was, would definitely be distracted by the rows of books, meaning Dakota could slip away and look for what he needed without Cavendish catching on; considering, well… He hadn’t clued Cavendish in on the unofficial investigation yet. He did feel guilty about it, almost going behind Cavendish’s back, looking things up about him- it was secretive, and made him feel sort of creepy, but the poor guy seemed like he had to think to remember his own name. Why press him for information he wasn’t likely to have, that would more or less set him off on a downward spiral. Dakota would’ve had trouble bringing himself to do it under normal circumstances, but since Cavendish had been so happy lately? It was physically impossible.

 

The minute he caught a break, he promised himself, then he would tell him everything.

 

* * *

 

The library turned out to be a very good idea, because Cavendish was ready to bolt out of the door and have them both on their way the moment Dakota suggested it. He paced around impatiently, sometimes in his bubble of personal space, while Dakota tried to get ready, and then almost dragged him out of the door when he finally got his shoes on. He was more controlled on the bus, but Dakota could see his fingers twitching, in some attempt to tap his legs, like if he didn’t get to the library soon he would die again.

It was the perfect place for a shut-in-turned-zombie, apparently. Everybody was quiet, invested in what they were doing, what they were reading, eyes on nobody else. He wouldn’t have to talk, and to hold and turn the pages of a book did not require very much finesse. Cavendish even seemed to know immediately which sections of the library he wanted to plunder, and Dakota let him get right to it.

 

“You find what you like, alright,” He whispered, jabbing his thumb off into some other direction. “I’m gonna go track down the vending machine.”

 

Cavendish groaned vaguely, not paying the slightest bit of attention to him. Perfect.

 

Despite under-estimating how big, and therefore how lost a person get in one, a library was, Dakota found the dinosaur of a machine they used to scan documents. The victory was short-lived, however, because it was currently in use by two middle schoolers.

 

“Wow, talk about a coincidence,” Zack was saying, turning as he caught Dakota’s reflection in the screen. “Hi again!”

 

“‘Sup,” Dakota greeted back, waving at both of them. “No Milo?”

 

“Ah, he’s not allowed in the library,” Melissa said. “Not after the last time.”

 

“A lifetime ban? That seems a little harsh, I’m sure whatever happened was an accident.”

 

“Milo’s got a  _ lot  _ of lifetime bans from places,” Zack said. “But they still let him have a library card, so we told him we’d check out what he wanted for him.”

 

“So what’re you two doin’ with this thing?” Dakota tapped the side of the machine.

 

“It’s for a history project. But we could ask the same for  _ you _ ,” Melissa squinted at him. “I didn’t think adults even came to the library. Trying to find your yearbook photo?”

 

Dakota pretended to clutch his chest in pain. “Augh, oof, you got me. Somebody get an ambulance down here.”

 

Melissa looked pleased with her teasing, but she remained focus. “Seriously, though, what do you need this thing for?”

 

“It’s… personal,” Dakota said. “I’m looking for something, but… it’s gotta be a secret.”

 

“Ohhh-kay, that totally didn’t sound spooky,” Zack said.

 

“I know, trust me, you guys wouldn’t wanna know about it, though,” Dakota waved his hand. “It’s… about something really bad. That happened to a friend.”

 

Both kids were silent for a second, looking appropriately sympathetic, before Zack spoke up again. “Well… Maybe- do you want us to help out? If you’re looking for something.”

 

Dakota couldn’t help but smile. “You’re both good kids, but no, thanks. I’ll just have to figure it out on my own for now- but if I get stumped, you two’ll be the first ones to know. Milo, too.”

 

They both looked satisfied with that answer enough, if still not a little sorry that there was nothing they could do. They really were great kids, Dakota thought, to be so upset over not being able to help. Personally, it was the first time a pre-teen hadn’t tried to leverage something against him. The children really were the future.

They finished up scanning over their documents, and both left him to the computer, saying bye as they went to scour for more research materials. Dakota hefted his own box of documents, not sure exactly what he should be looking for, but the disappearance had happened within the year, so he thought checking all the way back to the next one seemed sensible enough. Maybe this was something that’d been brewing a while, going off of what Savannah had said; it was definitely planned, at least enough to think about the consequences after the murder.

But there was still only so much he could glean that he hadn’t already looked up. He was sort of hoping to find a police report, but all he could catch were a few extra details. The last people to see Cavendish had been a small crowd at his last performance, his manager, and a few pedestrians. Something mentioned, very briefly, that they’d investigated the manager, but ultimately found there was nothing to tie him to the disappearance, and no concrete motive they could glean. It really did seem like Cavendish had just vanished off the face of the earth.

The prevailing theory was that the disappearance was intentional, but the thought made Dakota sick to even think about, not to mention he knew beyond a doubt it couldn’t be true. The other popular theory seemed to be that the culprit was just some random person, with no rhyme, no reason, no connection. Dakota knew, sadly, that it was possible, but that would make it all the harder to crack the case.

 

Finally out of documents, he tried not to feel discouraged as he shuffled them all back in and put them away with the rest. It was just a hitch, he convinced himself, there was definitely a clue somewhere; he just had to keep a lookout for it. If it was the last thing he did, he was going to Cavendish some justice.

 

* * *

 

Dakota, almost mowed down by two seperate book carts, managed to at last find Cavendish again in one piece. He was at one of the wide tables, hand in the middle of the book he was reading like a makeshift bookmark, currently swarmed by Melissa, Zack, and the massive tomes of history they’d managed to score. Melissa was sitting on top of the table, very poorly trying to whisper.

 

“And so I was thinking, like,  _ pre _ calculus? What’s up with that,” She was telling him. “Why do you need a ‘pre’ to calculus? Why not just start at like, the actual beginning, in calculus. What if you never take calculus after that? Now you can only, like, half do it.”

 

Cavendish was nodding, sagely, but it was very clear to Dakota from where he was standing that he had no idea what she was trying to get at.

 

“Hey again,” He slipped into the chair next to Cavendish, who made a disapproving noise as he put his shoes up onto the table. “What’s goin’ on over here?”

 

“We were telling Mr. Cavendish about Murphy’s Law,” Zack said. “Right? That’s what we were trying to do, I’m pretty sure.”

 

“Oh! Yeah, that’s right,” Melissa shook her head. “Sorry, I got sidetracked.”

 

“What’s Murphy’s Law?”

 

“Whatever can go wrong-” Both of the kids started.

 

“Will go wrong.” Cavendish finished for them.

 

“It’s basically why Milo is banned from the library,” Melissa went on. “He’s kind of cursed.”

 

“Cursed?” Dakota reminded himself the moment after he’d said it that he was, in fact, sitting right next to a zombie. Which wasn’t any stranger than being cursed, he guessed.

 

“Well, more like a condition,” Zack started. “I mean, if it were a curse, a lot more people would have it, right? It only seems to run in Milo’s family.”

 

“Maybe his family was cursed to have a terrible condition.” Melissa turned to Cavendish. “What do you think? Curse or condition.”

 

“Condition.” Cavendish decided.

 

“Guess he would know,” Dakota joked, and then caught the cover of the book Cavendish had been reading. A book on cursed, apparently. “Oh. I mean, I guess he really would.”

 

Suddenly, Zack’s phone went off, causing him to go bright red as scrambled to cut it off, a chorus of ‘shh’s being launched at all of them.

 

“That was my mom,” He was extra careful to whisper. “We gotta go.”

 

“See you guys,” Dakota said. “And good luck on your project.”

 

“Thanks,” Melissa scooped up their books. “Good luck on your thing, too.”

 

Cavendish turned to look at Dakota once the kids were out of sight, giving him a questioning look.

 

“What?” He said, maybe a little too defensive. “She was obviously talking about you. What’s with the curse book?” He couldn’t believe he wouldn’t have thought that Cavendish wouldn’t try to do some research on what had happened to him on his own as well.

 

Cavendish opened it back up and moved his hand, pointing to the page he’d be on. There was some kind of introduction to resurrection; though from a quick scan most of it was about how it was a bad idea overall to try it. Further down though, there were different examples about how, or why, one might be resurrected. Cavendish pointed to the section about revenge.

 

“Somebody… wanted to get revenge on you?” Cavendish shook his head. “Oh. You wanna get revenge?”

 

Cavendish nodded his head, very seriously. Suddenly Dakota realized this was not a discussion for the library.

 

“Okay, I… there’s something I need to tell you, but let’s get out of here first, alright?”

 

After Cavendish, who very much insisted on doing it right, put his book back in its proper place, the two made their way out of the library and towards some sort of recreational center not too far away. Some parts were clearly more occupied by others, but Dakota managed to find a spot all but deserted. It probably had something to do with the turf being absolutely ruined, but there remained one picnic bench unmarred.

 

“Alright, so…” He could already feel himself prematurely wincing. All the guilt from earlier came back in full force. “I’ve been kind of, uh, looking stuff up about you behind your back.”

 

Cavendish look appropriately shocked and betrayed. “How long?”

 

“A while. I… listen, I don’t wanna be the one to tell you this, but…” Dakota thought back to that night, watching that movie together. Cavendish throwing the remote at the TV, Cavendish shaking and clinging to him, telling him no one had looked. He couldn’t even look at him. “It’s… They gave up trying to figure it out. I’m sorry, buddy.”

 

Worse than all of the trembling, all of the intense sadness or even anger, Cavendish looked completely resigned. Like he had expected it. Like he wouldn’t have expected anything less.

 

“But that’s crap,” Dakota said, all of a sudden feeling- angry? He didn’t know if he could exactly call it that, but it was close, considering on how his heart started pounding a little faster. “They should’ve never stopped looking. That’s why I was looking stuff up, I have to- I  _ want  _ to help. To find out what happened to you, so you can… Move on? Rest in peace, or something? I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem right to leave it alone.” Dakota took a deep breath. “But if you want me to stop snooping around, I’ll stop.”

 

“Wish you had told me,” Cavendish managed after a moment. He didn’t look quite as dejected, a little more determined, like Dakota’s words had rubbed back on him, reminded him that he had to know, too. “But… I want you to… to help.”

 

Dakota couldn’t help but smile. “Hey, I’m your guy. From here on out, we’ll get to the bottom of this together.” He extended his hand to Cavendish. “Partners?”

 

Cavendish’s hand was freezing, and his fingers had some trouble moving around Dakota’s, but he was resolute when he finally took it. “Partners.”


End file.
